‘This isn’t an interview room,’ Bowman said. ‘This a fucking torture chamber.’
‘More or less the same thing over here.’
Gregory flapped a hand at the terrified figure bound to the bedframe. ‘We found the general hiding in the ditch with some of his men. Trying to play dead. It’s a good job I recognised him, otherwise he might have been taken away with the wounded.’
Bowman felt sick. ‘Why are we here?’
‘The president wishes us to dispense with the general . . . once we’ve had our fun with him, of course. We’ve already enjoyed ourselves, as you can see. I thought you guys might want to take over. Think of it as a treat, for all your hard work.’
The guard roared with laughter as Lubowa struck the man again.
‘Thank you, Colonel,’ said Gregory. ‘We’ll take it from here.’
Lubowa gave the man a final punch to the face before he stepped back from the mattress. He wiped his hands with one of the dirty rags, tossed it aside and nodded at Gregory.
‘He’s all yours,’ he said. ‘Let us know when you’re done. Make sure you don’t get started on the next prisoner without us.’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’
The colonel barked at the guard. The latter stubbed out his cigarette and followed his boss out of the cell, closing the door behind them.
The rebel leader groaned in agony. Bowman could barely believe what he was seeing. He remembered the box of cattle prods he’d seen in the wine cellar. He remembered the look of fear in Major Mavinda’s eyes when he had heard Gregory’s name. Suddenly understood. The guy isn’t just Seguma’s chief of security.
He’s running his own personal torture camp.
Gregory walked over to the bench, picked up the cattle prod. Held it out towards Bowman.
‘This usually gets a good reaction from them. Who wants to go first? Josh?’
For a moment, Bowman was speechless.
‘You’re not serious,’ he said finally. ‘You can’t fucking do this.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s wrong. It’s against the Geneva Conventions, for Chrissakes.’
Gregory waved his hand dismissively. ‘Don’t pretend to be offended. You know the president’s track record. How he operates. This can’t come as a great surprise to you, surely.’
‘I don’t give a crap about Seguma. The guy’s a tyrant. But I thought you would be above all of this.’
‘I’m his chief of security. This is my job.’
‘Torturing prisoners?’
‘Sending a message to his enemies.’ Gregory held up the cattle prod. ‘This is the only language these scum understand. You can’t sit down and negotiate with these people, Josh. They’re not interested. The only tactic that works here is violence.’
Bowman shook his head furiously. ‘This isn’t like you, Mike. You would never have stood for this shit in the Regiment.’
‘That was then. Things are different down here. Torture is a fact of life in Karatandu. I’m not just talking about the president. The KUF are as guilty of that as anyone.’ He pointed the prod at Kakuba. ‘The general is personally responsible for hundreds of killings, rapes and mutilations. His men massacred the president’s staff at the palace. They’ve razed dozens of villages. He’s not one of the good guys.’
‘Doesn’t make it right.’
Gregory stared at him with a downturned mouth. ‘I’m disappointed, Josh. I thought you’d be fine with all this. Your bosses certainly don’t have a problem with it.’
Bowman frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Vauxhall knows what we get up to down here. They’re perfectly comfortable with the arrangement. As a matter of fact, they’re the ones who supplied the cattle prods.’
‘Bollocks. You’re lying.’
Gregory chuckled. ‘Do you really believe Six wouldn’t sanction torture?’
‘I’m not an idiot. They’ve done some pretty dark shit in the past, I know. But they’ve got their limits. They would never agree to this.’
‘Why not? They’ve done far worse on this op.’
Something cold moved like a bayonet through his stomach. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
Gregory cocked an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Know what?’ Bowman demanded.
‘Six was behind the poisoning. In London. The attack on Freddie Lang. That was their handiwork.’
Bowman felt a cold chill on the nape of his neck. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No fucking way. They wouldn’t do that.’
‘Why do you think they haven’t identified the suspects yet? The middle of a royal wedding, all those people, and there’s not one witness? Not even the Russians could pull off something like that.’
Bowman couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe. His mind was reeling.
‘But . . . how?’
‘Six contracted the job out to a couple of ex-Regiment guys. They do all the wet work for the government. They got them into the hotel disguised as bodyguards or something.’
The chill ran like ice down Bowman’s back. He remembered the two men in the ballroom corridor. The face-mask strap dangling from the pocket. The absence of crucial CCTV footage.
Five has looked into it, Mallet had said. It’s a dead end. The cameras weren’t working.
‘How the fuck do you know this?’ Webb asked.
‘My handler told me,’ Gregory replied simply.
‘You’re working for Six?’ said Bowman.
Gregory nodded. ‘They approached me soon after I took the job. They wanted a second source close to the president, you see. To verify the information they were getting from David Lang. They suspected he might be feeding them bullshit. So they came to me. I’ve been working for them for a couple of years now.’
‘But why would they tell you about the poisoning?’ Casey said. ‘Six would keep something like that top secret, if it was true.’
Gregory said, ‘They didn’t have a choice. I was the one who tipped them off about that backstabbing bastard Lang.’
‘You knew about the meeting with the Russians?’
‘I’m the president’s chief of security, Josh. It’s my business to know everything that goes on around here.’ Gregory ran a hand down his beard. ‘I knew Lang was sneaking around, having lots of meetings with shady Russian businessmen. More than usual, anyway. So I had him followed by my people. We ran a huge surveillance operation on him. That’s when we realised Lang was double-dipping with the Kremlin. I heard about some
